


Crocodile

by WaterHorseyBlues



Category: B.A.P
Genre: Bad Ending, Blood and Gore, Murder, Pretty Much Everyone Dies, Sexual Content, Vampire Turning, Vampires, gore-based sexual content, jongup has a terrible time all the time, this is lots of gore and vampires and members die like its not fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-06-09 07:42:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 14,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6895945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaterHorseyBlues/pseuds/WaterHorseyBlues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's very little that can be done when your best friend and maknae gets attacked then suddenly develops a taste for blood. When things only go from bad to worse, with far too many horrendous losses and monstrous deeds in the middle, Jongup begins to wonder if promising to protect Junhong was even worth it. And also, is he even the same person he made that promise to, or just a monster wearing his face?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Junhong allowed himself to sink a little deeper into his leather padded chair, eyes slowly closing. Rain drummed against a distant window somewhere, soft and quiet enough to send him into a comfortable meditative state. They'd be on stage later, but for now he could just himself relax. He'd had a bit of a cough and had been worried about it messing up his performance, but it had mostly gone now and he was certain he'd be fine. For now, he could let himself rest.

“Junhong, could you grab me a bottle of water?”

He cracked an eye open to see Youngjae sitting as still as possible as a stylist picked at his hair.

“But just sat down...”

“I know, but you're closest. It'll take you like half a minute.”

Junhong let out a groan and slowly pushed himself up, telling himself maybe a drink wouldn't hurt him either. He reached a hand up and adjusted the chain around his neck where the cross pendent had caught against the clasp.

“Thanks Junhongie~”

He grunted in response and made his way to the door, past where Himchan was lying across a couch with his head hanging back off the side, neck stretched and phone hovering in front of his eyes as he fingers tapped away.

“Could you grab me a bottle as well?”

“You're right next to the door, you could've grabbed one whenever you wanted.” He frowned down at the second-oldest.

“Ahhh but I'm comfortable.”

Junhong bit back a 'so was I' but let slip an “Ugh, do I have to?”

“Hey! Don't take that tone, just bring hyung some water.”

“Fine.” He huffed and left the room, snapping the door behind him before anyone else could call after him.

It was a little chillier outside of their waiting room and he made his way along the long hallway to where he knew there was another room full of refreshments and whatever else they may need. It was empty, and darker than he was expecting. Maybe a light had gone out. Rain clattered against the building like approaching war drums.

He stepped into the small room and grabbed a few bottles. For a moment he debated grabbing a few for the other members, but he couldn't really be bothered to carry all six. And besides, if they wanted one they should have asked. He cracked one bottle open, taking a mouthful as he settled the other two in one hand. Swallowing, he stepped out.

And nearly choked.

A young girl, probably around eighteen, was stood just outside the door by the wall. He jolted away from her, shocked that he hadn't spotted her in the darkness from before. Her dark hair hung lank over her face, body thin and bones jutting out. There was a brief moment where he eyed her, unsure if she was a staff member, before she threw herself at him.

He fell back with a yelp, stumbling over his own feet as he tried to free himself of her grabbing hands. The bottles were knocked from his grip, his own open one spilling water all down his front and gushing onto the floor, soaking his shoes. She was a good foot shorter than him, but seemed to be trying to climb up his torso with inhuman strength.

“H-hey! Get off! What are you doing?”

He gripped her shoulders and tried to pry her off, but she seemed locked to him. There was a horrifying moment where she'd physically lifted herself from the ground, but her hand pressed to his chest and she screeched, falling to the floor. He stared down at her as she writhed in pain, grasping her hand as though it had been burned.

“A-are you okay?” he stammered out, still in shock.

She hissed, or he thought she did, and scrabbled away, leaving him alone in the dark corridor once more. The rain thundered on outside.

Leaning down, he gathered the bottles he'd dropped. He staggered back to the room where the others were still getting ready, each step a squelch and drip. He trembled, either from cold or shock he couldn't tell. Probably both.

“Your water,” he mumbled, setting one bottle next to Himchan.

“Thank you, maknae!”

He didn't respond, teeth sinking into his tongue. He took the other bottle to Youngjae, who stared at him like he was carrying a dead animal.

“Woah, what happened? You look like you were ravaged.”

“Fell over. Spilled my drink.” He moved to sit again, but a stylist was upon him, fixing the mess he'd become.

“Ah, you got water? Why didn't you grab us one?” Daehyun asked, having re-appeared from costume changing and was now harassing Jongup.

Junhong chewed the inside of his lip.

“Gotta ask or you miss out,” Youngjae sang mockingly to the older.

“I miss out on everything,” Daehyun pouted.

Junhong silently debated a solo career, but caught Jongups concerned gaze and gave the dancer a quick nod. He was rewarded with a reassuring smile, and praised the day Moon Jongup was introduced to him. What a blessing.

 

His throat burned and scratched. He hadn't messed up at all, but towards his last few lines he could feel his voice going and had to avoid getting involved in any choruses. He was tired and felt like collapsing then and there and never waking up again. Instead he had to drag himself down the empty corridor once more to grab himself water while the others filed back to change out of their stage clothes, a chorus of 'grab me one too' following after him. They had something else after this but he really didn't think he'd be able to make it – at least not be fully there if he did have to go.

It had been a long day and only looked worse. Every muscle in his body was tense and aching. His skin flinched and jolted with every sound.

Before he even set foot in the room something grabbed him. He turned and felt himself being jerked down, close to someone's face. Fingers dug into his shoulder, breath hot on his skin.

It was an instinctive reaction and he hadn't been able to stop it. One moment his heart was thudding in his ears and he was frozen solid, the other his hand had swung around shoved his attacker off him by the side of the head. It had made a horrible noise when the skull cracked against the wall, smearing a red stain on the paint.

“Oh- shit! Shit I'm sorry I didn't mean to...” He crouched down, recognising the girl from before. She must've been some sort of crazy fan who'd managed to get past security.

He carefully helped her stand and she wobbled a little, then looked up. Their eyes met. He felt a shiver run down his spine. Her gaze was red.

She was upon him again, launching her tiny frame at him with teeth bared and hissing. Something sharp cut deep into his neck and he staggered back. They struggled, his hands on her arms, her fingers on his shoulders, her teeth in his neck. He ripped her from his body, cutting the wound more open with a scream of pain, warm liquid spilling out. With one almighty shove he threw her across the hallway.

Her body hit a small wooden coffee table, smashing the ornament on top of it with a series of high-pitched clinks and breaking the delicate furniture. A leg snapped under her weight, jutting out, and as she fell it pushed up through her torso. The splintered wood burst out from her ribs, tearing her top and soaking the floor around in blood. She dropped limp, head falling back against the tabletop and limbs slumping to the ground.

Junhong flinched.

Her back was bent awkwardly where her chest was still held up, the wide decorative curve of the leg having stopped the whole piece from passing through her. A large dark patch spread out from the wooden end, dripping down from her back onto the floor in soft pats. Her hair splayed out around her head, mouth open and eyes dull. A pair of long, shiny fangs poked from between her red lips, his blood smeared all around her mouth and down her chin.

The hallway stank of iron. His heart hammered, but seemed to slowly muffle. Something bitter and metallic sat on his tongue. The wound on his neck stung and ached, still bleeding profusely when he held a hand over it. His whole body hurt like something was pouring through his veins... or maybe out of his veins.

There was a lot of red.

“Oh shit.”

He turned his head slowly, wobbling a little, to see Jongup stood a few feet away from him looking pale. “I didn't mean to,” he began slowly, tongue heavy and brain numb, “she- she jumped at me and- and I just wanted to push her off...”

“It's- It's fine... It was a mistake.” He was trying hard not to look too much at the pale, limp corpse. “You're injured. We'll find someone who can patch you up and...”

“And call the police?”

“N-no... I don't know. Lets just get you help first.”

Junhong nodded mutely and let the older dancer gently take his arm and lead him away. Blood spread all the way down his chest, making him woozy and unstable. He seemed to be leaving a trail behind him. Was it normal to bleed this much from a cut? It was just a cut right? How deep was it?

“Hey...”

He turned his head slowly to look down at his hyung.

“Are you okay?”

He nodded a little and felt the sting of the muscle working.

The hand on his arm squeezed him a little. “I've got you, okay?”

“Thank you, Jonggupie-hyung,” he replied softly, then blacked out.

 


	2. Chatper 2

Jongup held Junhong up as the nurse peeled his shirt from his shoulder, congealed blood sitting in thick lumps on the fabric and dried flakes falling off him like a shell. The maknae's head rolled back a little as the nurse dabbed at the wound with a wet cloth.

“Well, it looks like the damage done is less severe than we thought. An artery must've been hit and so it bled more, making it seem like the wound was very deep.” She traced a gloved finger carefully around the tiny puncture wounds on his skin, where before Jongup was certain had been deep gashes. “He'll be fine, he just needs something to eat and lots of rest. If he gets worse we'll take a blood test in case he's contracted something.”

“Right. Thank you.”

“My mouth hurts,” Junhong groaned.

“You've probably clenched your jaw during the trauma. If you find your gums have started bleeding, then contact us. Otherwise it should subside.” She gave them both a smile and went to dispose of her used equipment at the ambulance.

“You doing okay?” Jongup asked nervously. He wished the other members were there to accompany him, but the medical staff had insisted on not crowding him and, as Jongup had been the one to carry his body to the on-location nursing team he'd been given right of carer.

“Teeth hurt.” Junhong's brows furrowed.

“Want me to check if they're bleeding?”

The maknae nodded and opened his mouth slowly.

There didn't seem to be much of an issue – no bleeding, no swelling – until he asked Junhong to close his mouth in case the pressure caused the gums to seep. Then he spotted it. The top row of the younger dancer's teeth hung over just a little more than they would normally, and had grown into small points. He stared.

“Is there blood on my teeth?”

“No,” he answered, and tore his gaze away. “You'll be fine.”

The younger gave him a gentle nod and let his head drop forward, teeth clacking together like a mouse trap. Jongup's skin bristled.

“They're going to put me in prison,” Junhong mumbled, eyes cast down.

“No, they won't.”

He looked up at the older “I killed that girl, hyung... They'll lock me up until I rot.”

“I promise they won't.” Jongup put his hands on Junhong's shoulder. “Don't tell anyone. I'm going to go back and... And hide her. I won't let them take you away.”

The maknae's eyes widened.

“Stay here.”

 

The hallway was empty, not a living soul in sight. Jongup inched his way along past closed doors, squinting where the light was still broken. Just ahead, he could see the crumpled frame of the broken table.

But no body.

He approached the table, feet inching in front of each other and hand outstretched just in front of him. He kept his breathing light, worried he might miss the sound of someone – or something – moving. His palms felt cold and damp.

As he got closer to the table, he noticed something strange. There was a heap of something n the floor and what seemed to be a cloth hanging off the broken table leg. He leaned in a little closer to inspect it and saw a deep red stain on the cloth.

It was her clothes, but not just that. The floor was coated in a thick layer of ash as though her body had combusted, bones and all, into the grey dust. He crouched down and lowered his hand, fingers stretching out and the pads of his fingers almost warmed by the ash... But he stopped himself before he came in contact. He withdrew his hand like the remains might bite him. He instead pulled his jacket off and used the cloth as a barrier to gather up the clothes into a bundle and roll them all up out of sight. The disturbed ash swirled in the air like a ghost and he blew it away, hoping it would be mistaken for dust from the broken table.

He headed back to where he'd left Junhong, passing by a large bin and letting his jacket unroll for the clothes to fall straight into. He shook the garment a few times to get the ash off it and folded it up, hiding the grey smears, and hung it over his arm.

 

“Feeling any better?” He asked the dancer once he was back at his side.

“Hungry,” the younger replied.

“That's probably a good sign. The medics say it's okay for you to go back to the others now.”

Junhong nodded and slowly stood, surprising Jongup with his height.

“What do you want to eat?” He asked as they made their way to their worried hyungs.

Junhong answered without a moment of hesitation: “Meat.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

He wished he didn't notice the way Junhong's teeth tore through his food. He wished he didn't notice the way he chewed every piece of meat like he was squeezing all of the juice from it first. He wished he didn't notice how Junhong avoided picking up anything else in his dish, instead choosing to rip apart each crap of meat he could find.

No one else noticed. Too busy eating their own food and being glad that the maknae hadn't bled to death or anything. Too busy discussing the crazy fan who had attacked their youngest and then run away (of course, Jongup hadn't told them what really happened). They were tired. It had been a long day. Who would pay attention to unusual behaviour, especially considering the guy had every right to be a little off after a violent attack?

Jongup pretended it was fine. Someone had given him a pat on the shoulder for being the one to help, but he hadn't given it much attention. He ordered his usual favourite food with the others and forced it down, not even caring for the flavour. It stuck in the back of his neck and slid down his throat in thick clumps. Nausea bristled up his body.

“Ah!”

Youngjae's sharp cry of distress cut across Jongup's thoughts. He looked up from his lap to see the older boy shaking his hand with a hiss.

“Huh? What happened?” Daehyun asked, looking at his friend before down at the large crack that had appeared in the side of Youngjae's take-away box. “Did you just break it?”

“I didn't mean to,” the younger vocalist grumbled, eyeing his palm suspiciously. The slim white line across his palm began to turn an angry colour as beads of red oozed out. “Ah, crap.” He pressed his palm to his mouth, wetting the wound with spit. “Someone grab me a tissue or something.”

There was a bit of kerfuffle as various members looked for something to help, until Yongguk produced a square of kitchen roll and Himchan went hunting for plasters. Jongup watched Youngjae press the tissue against his hand, red creeping from beneath his fingers into the white. He looked away, feeling a burn of bile in his throat, and his eyes landed on Junhong.

The maknae had frozen in place and was staring at Youngjae's hand. His pupils had blown wide, the brown absorbed into the deep black. White teeth glinted as his lips parted, the sharp ends uncovered as his mouth slowly fell open. The pink flash of his tongue darted across his lips.

“Here, this can be cut to length.” Himchan crouched beside Youngjae, peeling out a strip of plaster. The tissue was pulled away and the cut quickly wiped down, before the plaster was carefully applied and pressed against the vocalist's skin until they were sure it would hold.

“Thanks. Ah, it stings.” Youngjae hissed through his teeth, brow furrowed.

“It should be healed by tomorrow. It looked pretty shallow. You should be fine.” Himchan gave him a pat on the shoulder and smiled.

“Honestly it's getting late. It's been a long day and we should get some rest,” their leader said, glancing at the time on his phone.

Jongup looked away from Junhong and began clearing up the mess. His hand reached for the cracked box when his fingers collided with the maknae's.

“Let me help, hyung,” the youngest said with a smile that made the hair on Jongup's arms stand on end.

“Okay,” he replied, voice dry.

They gathered the rubbish up and took them to the kitchen to be rinsed and binned. As he ran a plastic lid under the tap he saw from the corner of his eye Junhong running a fingertip along the crack in the plastic box, a red smear striking across his skin. The maknae raised his stained finger to his mouth and wrapped his lips around it, sucking it clean.

“What... Are you doing?” Jongup asked, voice shaking a little.

Junhong turned to him with wide eyes, looking like a startled child with their hand in the cookie jar. “Snagging some leftovers. It's tasty.” His tongue flicked out over his lips for a moment and he grinned. “Don't tell the hyungs.”

“Right...” The older dancer turned away, suddenly feeling like he was in a cage with a hungry lion. “I won't tell.”

“Thanks, Jonguppie-hyung, you're always keeping me safe.” Junhong stepped close, one arm sliding around him to rinse the box under the tap, the other wrapping around Jongup's middle so he could nuzzle his face against his hair.

In the past, Jongup had found this to be a rather endearing behaviour. The maknae had a tendency to rub his face against things and it wasn't unusual for the various members to be on the receiving end of this affection. It was funny, in a way, to receive such playful skinship from someone so much taller.

This time, however. This time it felt _wrong_.

He was trapped against the sink, towered over. He had a fleeting mental image of a cat nudging its prey, trying to get some entertainment from the terrified creature.

“You promise you won't tell anyone what actually happened, right?” Junhong's grip around his middle tightened.

“No one,” he whispered. His heart pounded against his chest.

“You'll keep me safe, right?” Junhong's voice was quiet, almost pleading despite the way he was now leaning over Jongup, fingers digging into his side.

“I promise,” he gasped out, feeling the cold brush of breath against his neck.

“Thank you, hyung.”

And like that, it was over. Junhong let him go, turned off the tap and binned the last piece of food packaging. Silently, ghost like, he vanished to his room, leaving Jongup alone. The older dancer's knees gave way and he sank to the ground, mind racing as he tried to put together what had happened.

The gentle patter of rain thrummed on the windows.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Jongup squirmed in his sleep, haunted by girls with sharp teeth and bleeding holes in their chests. Something heavy pressed against him somehow, as though pushing down on his soul. Coldness wrapped around his chest and throat, seeping into his blood.

He jerked awake in a sweat, gasping and clutching the sheets. Blinking at the darkness he waited for his eyes to adjust. There was a dark patch just to his side and he waited for it to clear up, breathing slowly. It didn't clear up.

With a jolt of shock he realised someone was standing in his room, leaning over Youngjae's bed. His gaze travelled up the tall figure slowly until he saw the silhouetted outline of a sharp jawline and the glint of wet teeth.

“Junhong!” He breathed, sitting up, “What are you doing?”

The tall maknae's head turned sharply, a hiss of surprise escaping from between the sharp points of his teeth. “I...Was just making sure that he was well. After his cut.”

“He's... Fine. It was just a small cut.” Jongup clenched his fist in his bed sheet.

“Right. Of course.”

“Go back to sleep Junhong... We have practice tomorrow.”

“Can't sleep,” the younger whispered back.

Despite himself, Jongup found himself sighing. “It's been a rough day. You need to rest...”

“Can I sleep with you?”

The words were spoken quietly, softly, with a timid tenderness that he'd often used when young. Jongup couldn't help the way it dug deep into him, brought him back to their early days when the maknae would be horribly homesick. He felt his defences crumble around him. “Yeah. Okay. Just be quiet or we might disturb Youngjae-hyung.”

He shifted over and Junhong crawled into the bed beside him, long frame trapping the smaller against the wall. Long arms snaked around his middle and he tensed, finding himself caged in.

“I'm not going to crush you,” Junhong whispered, laughing a little and his cool breath ruffling Jongup's hair.

He forced himself to relax and nodded a little, biting his tongue. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to ignore the crawling feeling all over his skin and the nausea that bubbled in his throat. Junhong's arms pinned him in place like weights and he tried to pretend it was the comforting grasp of a lover.

It didn't help much.

 

He woke slowly, sluggishly, like he was being dragged from the grave. Something held him down. Cold. Heavy. His stomach lurched when he realised it was Junhong's limp body. With a yelp of shock he pulled himself free, sitting up. To his horror, the corpse-like maknae sat up as well, equally startled.

“What's wrong?” Junhong stared at him, eyes wide, skin pale.

“You- I-” Jongup stammered, heart racing at the sight of him.

“Ah, you're awake,” came Youngjae's mild voice from the doorway. He grinned when the two maknae's turned to look at him. “You two looked so cute I thought I'd let you sleep a little longer. Come get something to eat, we have practice to go to.” With that he turned and left the room.

“I didn't sleep,” Junhong said quietly.

“You should sleep,” Jongup breathed out, “You look ill. You're pale and... Really cold.”

“I'm fine,” the younger assured, pushing himself out of the bed and standing slowly. He made his way to the sun-lit hallway and jerked back, hand sheltering his eyes. “Augh, bright...”

Jongup's brow furrowed and he stood slowly. “Are you sure you're okay?”

“Fine... Just... The light is hurting my eyes.” Junhong took a few more steps back.

“Go back to bed... You must've fallen ill.”

Junhong looked a little down at this but nodded. “Can I stay in your bed?”

“Yeah. Sure. I'll bring you something to eat.”

“Thank you, Jonguppie-hyung.”

He left the maknae to rest, preparing him a quick breakfast and leaving it with him for when he was hungry. Then went with the rest of the members to practice.

When they returned he checked on Junhong to find the maknae awake, food untouched.

“If you don't eat you'll get worse...” Jongup sighed and picked up the plate of stale, cold food.

“I can't eat it.” Junhong whispered.

“Not hungry?”

“No,” the maknae hissed, “I'm hungy. I'm starving. But I can't eat it.”

Jongups mouth went dry.

“It's not food. I might as well be eating this bed.”

“Then... What do you want to eat?” Just asking the question made his heart surge to his throat.

“Meat,” Junhong breathed, and looked at him with blown-wide pupils, “Red meat. Raw.”

Jongup swallowed. “I'll... I'll see what I can find for you. Just- Just hold on.” He backed out of the room and let out a breath. His eyes fell shut for a moment as he tried to calm himself down, and the memory of Junhong sucking blood from his finger swam before his eyes. With a jolt he shook his head clear. Grabbing his shoes and wallet, he stepped out of the dorm to make a quick run to the closest butchers.

 


	5. Chapter 5

It was that mid-hour after work where people were stopping at shops before they had to make dinner – possibly the worst hour for an idol to be out and about, but Jongup didn't have much of an option. He kept his facemask on and waited impatiently in the butchers for his chance to grab Junhong... Whatever looked the most appropriate at the time. As his gaze investigated the various strung-up meats he wondered how he was going to explain any of this to the older members, or even the manager. Would fans notice?

He shook the worrying thoughts off and stepped forwards as the queue advanced. His fingers fumbled with the keys in his pockets. The muscles in his back knotted with worry.

Time ticked on.

 

It wasn't the first time he'd handled raw meat. Obviously. It wasn't even the first time he'd bought something like a steak or just a huge chunk of whatever animal and carried it home. But somehow this time, with the assorted pork cutlets in a bag hanging from his arm, he felt thoroughly disturbed.

He walked through the street, head down, trying not to let the bag bump and squash against his legs.

 

He heard the scuffle as the door opened, and felt the fear hit him before the scream shattered the world around him. The bag slipped from his arm, splatting on the ground as he scrabbled into a sprint. He hurled himself through the dorm and into the kitchen where cries of terror were being viciously muffled. His feet skidded to a halt and he grabbed the door frame to catch himself. What he saw made him feel like he'd been punched with a huge, toxic fist.

Junhong had Himchan cornered against the work surface, one hand clenched over the older man's mouth, fingers dug into his cheeks to hold his face still. Himchan's face had been turned away, neck bared and stretched out, and his gaze fell on Jongup with wide pleading eyes. Junhong's head was bowed down, back hunched and body moving – almost rolling sensually – as he bit deep into Himchan's neck. Ribbons of red blood streaked down Himchan's front as the growing bite wound gushed around the maknae's sharp fangs.

“Juh...” Jongup barely whimpered, dazed with shock. “Ju-...Junhong!”

The maknae ripped his mouth off the older, dragging a muffled scream from Himchan as the bite marks were ripped wider, and snapped his head around to stare at Jongup. His eyes were wide, dark, animal-like and hungry. His face, smeared in red and sticky, was pulled into a cruel snarl. Then it all faded. His expression became soft and pleading, helpless whimpers escaping him.

“I- I could-couldn't s-stop it,” the youngest stammered, nails still digging into Himchan's face. “That girl... She wasn't right... She was- was some k-kind of... Of monster... And now..” his gaze darted back to Himchan and he whimpered, “and now I'm a monster.”

“No! No you're not.” Jongup took a tentative step closer. “You- You can control it, okay? Just...Just let Himchannie-hyung go.”

Junhong looked at the man in his grasp then back to Jongup, before swallowing and stepping away. Himchan's knees gave out immediately and he collapsed to the floor, open wound freely spilling blood everywhere before he shakily tried to stem the flow with his hand.

Junhong gazed at the blood.

“M-maybe you need to... Leave the room...Um, while I help Himchan-hyung.”

Junhong's eyes narrowed as his gaze moved to stare at Jongup.

“I- I won't take long, I promise.”

Junhong's eyes turned steely for a second before his expression softened. “Okay... I'll wait.”

The tall maknae slowly inched away from their drastically bleeding hyung before slipping out of the kitchen and out of sight. As soon as it was just the two of them Jongup threw himself forward and pressed his hand over Himchan's, applying hard pressure to the wound where the older was losing the energy.

“Hyung- Himchan-hyung, are you okay?” He whispered, free hand touching the deep nail marks on the older's face.

“That... That crazy fan who attacked him,” Himchan wheezed, face getting paler by the second, “she did this to him too, right?”

Jongup hesitated a moment before nodding.

“And... And that's why he's been off lately...” His head lolled forwards a moment, sweat beading on his forehead.

Jongup carefully righted his hyung's head up, supporting him. “I... I think so.”

“It's going to happen to me isn't it?”

A cold chill seeped into the dancer's skin. “I don't know,” he whispered.

“Jongup... Don't let it-”

“Hyung-”

“Jonguppie.” Himchan's free hand reached up and gripped Jongup's, pulling it away from his cheek to hold firmly. “Don't let it... I don't want to... To hurt people... Jongup...” He trailed off and slowly removed their hands from the bloody wound, which was already starting to knit itself together and heal.

“Himchannie-hyung, I can't,” Jongup choked, tears burning at his eyes.

“Please,” Himchan begged, “Just... Just finish it."

“We can call a doctor, someone must- must be able to-” Jongup began, sobbing around his words.

“They didn't cure Junhong... They can't cure me.” Himchan's head lolled forwards again and his body slumped forwards, weak frame leaning against Jongup's chest. “Please...”

Jongup buried his face in Himchan's hair, throat burning and tears rolling down his face. He clutched the older to him, shaking. “Please don't make me,” he whimpered, “I can't. I can't do this to you.”

“Please. If... If you loved me you would... It's... It's the kindest thing you can do,” Himchan breathed out.

Jongup pulled away to look at the older man, both of them tear-stained and shaking. He heaved in a deep breath and swallowed, before nodding. “H-how?”

Himchan's head turned very slowly, deliberately, until his eyes were locked on the large knife block. Jongup followed his line of sight.

“No,” the younger said immediately, “No it's- it's too awful.”

“You have to,” Himchan breathed, “it's... The best way to be certain...”

Jongup bit his lip, trembling, before slowly giving in to Himchan's pleading gaze. He stood unsteadily and stumbled to where the knife block sat. Reaching out with a shaky hand, his fingers slid and slipped on the handle of the largest knife – thinking it would probably work the quickest – until he secured his grip and held it close to his chest. He slowly lowered himself and crawled back to the older.

“Do it,” Himchan mumbled, blinking blearily, “before it goes too far.”

“Hyung,” Jongup whimpered, one hand moving to hold the back of Himchan's head and pressing their foreheads together.

“It's okay, Jonguppie,” the older assured, letting his eyes closed. “It's okay. It's the right thing to do.”

Shaking, he adjusted his hold on the blade. “Himchannie-hyung,” he sobbed.

“It's okay,” Himchan insisted again, smiling a little, “it's the right thing to do..”

Jongup shifted so their faces nuzzled each other, his own face twisted in misery and soaked in tears. “I don't want to hurt you.”

“You won't,” Himchan insisted, hands moving up to hold Jongup's face, “you won't hurt me. It's okay. Please.”

Jongup pulled his face away a little so they could look at each other. “Are you sure?”

“You're so gentle, Jongup,” Himchan laughed weakly, “I won't feel a thing.” He paused to smile at him, eyes watery, “I love you, Jongup, you're as good as real family.”

Jongup choked out a sob, “I love you too, hyung,” he replied, voice wobbling and fresh tears cascading down his face.

Himchan's smile widened for a moment, before his body jolted as the knife pierced his body in one harsh thrust. His eyes widened and mouth slackened, blood gurgling in his mouth. He stared at Jongup, who let out a cry of despair as he watched life fade from his hyung's eyes. Before the world went black around the ulzzang, the hint of a smile pulled at his lips.

Then he went limp.

Dead.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Jongup stumbled away from the kitchen, shaking. Blood cooled on his hands and tears continued to streak down his face. Numb horror filled every pore of his body, making his ears ring and limbs heavy.

The hallway was empty. Still. Not a soul in sight. A chill scraped up his arms and back.

He had to find Junhong. Had to find him...

A loud slurping sound caught his attention, followed by a number of small content hums and swallowing noises. It was muffled, just down the hallway in one of the bedrooms. The occasional specks of red on the floor made a vague trail towards the ajar door. A hand print was smeared on the handle. Inside something moved.

He forced himself to take a step forward. Then the next. Each foot in front of the other like he was pushing himself through thick mud. He extended his arm, the whole limb weighing tons, and pushed a finger against the door. It bounced away from his touch weightlessly.

Junhong looked up, his whole face red with a dripping coat of blood. His mouth was full of the thick liquid, dark and shiny. A thick strand connected his lips to...

Yongguk's body. Yongguk's still, lifeless body. His head was clenched in the Junhong's hand, red-stained fingers buried in his black hair, his limp body draped across the maknae's lap. His mouth hung open, the ghost of a silenced scream on his lips, and his wide eyes stared sightlessly at the ceiling. A deep hole in his neck pumped out blood, spilling onto the floor and soaking into the fabric of his clothes. The stench of iron filled the room.

“I couldn't help it,”Junhong mumbled, eyes unfocussed, “I wouldn't stop myself. It tastes so good, hyung, I-... I needed more.” He bit his lower lip like a child who'd broken something and was guiltily facing punishment. The sharp points of his teeth indented the red flesh, never tearing the thin skin there, too tender an action to do himself harm.

Jongup's chest jerked as he retched, throat aching as he tried to stop himself from heaving before he got a word out. Junhong watched him, tongue sliding out to lick the stickiness from his mouth.

“Y-youngguk-hyung... You- You killed Yongguk-hyung...” Why was he saying this? Just to process it in his own mind? Did he think it would ground the boy?

Junhong whimpered like a child being told off by a stern parent. “I- I couldn't stop. Jonguppie-hyung... Please... It tastes-” He closed his eyes and bit his lip, muffling a groan and shuddering a little. “So good.” His voice was low, raspy, laced with pleasure. He dropped his head down and latched his mouth back into Yongguk's mauled neck, sucking like a hungry infant with a bottle of milk. His brows peaked, eyes shut blissfully. Each swallow was loud, his breathing heavy and small moans escaping him. He pulled back, teeth sliding out of torn flesh, and lapped at the spillage with his tongue wide and flat.

He let out another body-shaking moan and changed his angle, fangs piercing unblemished skin and releasing a new stream of red. He groaned, muffled as his whole mouth encased the deceased leader's prominent Adam's apple.

Jongup gripped the door-frame and threw up.

 

He'd locked himself in the bathroom, scrubbing furiously at his hands. He couldn't tell if the blood had stained or if the harsh bristles of the brush were making his skin flare. He couldn't feel it anyway. The tap could've been boiling for all he knew.

“Hyung~”

He swallowed the acid burning in his mouth.

“Hyung...”

He needed more soap.

“Hyung,” came the now tentative, nasally call, “please come out.”

“I'm washing my hands,” he croaked out, staring as the wrinkles on his fingers started to split.

“Can I come in then?”

He squeezed his eyes shut.

“Hyung?”

He glanced back at the door and stepped away from the sink for a moment. His wet hands slipped on the door handle and off the lock a few times before he got it to turn. The door cracked open an inch and he looked out at the looming maknae just outside.

“I won't hurt you,” Junhong said in a small voice, “I... I couldn't. I could never hurt you.”

“But the others?” Jongup asked, voice raw.

The maknae's face twisted in guilt. “I- I didn't know what was happening... I didn't want to... But, it's okay now. I think I have control.”

No you don't, Jongup wanted to shout at him, you're just not hungry any more! Instead he stepped away from the door, letting it open, as he went back to washing his hands.

“Um. So, can I come in?”

He looked back at the younger. “The door's open.”

There was a long silence while Junhong stared at him, then down at the floor divider, then back up at Jongup.

Something twisted in his gut. “Yeah, you can come in.”

The maknae stepped in and walked up behind him. He reached around his sides, caging him once again, but this time to pull his hands gently from the water. “You need to stop,” he murmured against Jongup's ear, “you're hurting yourself.”

“It's fine, I'm just-”

Junhong wrapped his hands gently in a hand towel, drying them with careful tenderness. “Let me look after you.”

Jongup relented, allowing his hands to be dried and inspected.

“Hyung,” Junhong whispered, “What are we going to do?”

Jongup looked up into his worried face. “I don't know.”

“How are we going to tell the others?” Junhong panicked and gripped Jongup's hands, “Will you tell them the truth? What if they tell the police? You won't let them take me away, will you?”

He stared at the maknae's watery, wide eyes. His gaze dropped down to the red stains on his mouth where the blood hadn't washed off, and the sharp rows of teeth.

“Hyung?” Junhong's voice cracked. “You promised... You promoted not to tell anyone. You promised to keep me safe.”

Jongup's eyes flicked up again and their gazes met. All he could see was the terrified face of the boy he'd lived with for the past few years. Not a trace of the creature he'd been. “Yeah. I promised.” He nodded. “We'll... We'll have to run.”

Junhong's eyes widened. “Run?”

“You have a drivers license, right? We'll borrow a car and... And work it out.” His voice faded out towards the last words.

“Hyung.” The younger dancer's eyes watered and he pulled Jongup into a tight hug, burying his face against his neck. “Thank you.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

Junhong had managed to get a car and Jongup tried very hard not to think about how or where. He didn't immediately recognise the vehicle and the keys Junhong used, sticky with red, didn't give him much reassurance. He held the handlebar on the inside of the car as the maknae drove them out into the darkening evening, the moon and stars glowing through the red sky. There were other cars on the road, but the longer they drove the less they saw.

They'd packed bags. Wallets, some clothes, some food – in Junhong's case, the meat – until they could find somewhere to stop, their phones and phone chargers, a travel toiletries kit they’d had for emergencies, a towel, and Jongup had sneaked a small kitchen knife into his bag for reasons he wasn't entirely sure of yet. The back of the car rattled lightly with their luggage.

“Hyung, where are we going to go?” Junhong asked after a lengthy silence.

“I don't know, Junhongie. We'll just find the first hostel or whatever that we can stay at, stop for a night and then keep moving.”

“What about Daehyun-hyung and Youngjae-hyung?”

Jongup pressed his lips together.

“They're going to do something. They'll try to find us.”

“Don't worry about it,” Jongup replied quietly, “Just keep your phone off. Only use it in emergencies. If we're lucky, they'll...” He took a deep breath, “they'll think the worst based on... On what we left behind.”

Junhong nodded slowly. “You won't tell them?”

“No. I won't. I promise.”

They both fell quiet for the rest of the journey.

 

Jongup stirred in his sleep, hugged in warm bedsheets and cosy. For a moment, everything felt like a long horrible dream. He was happy until he breathed in the unfamiliar smell of old bedsheets and dust, and the mattress was lumpy and the pillows thin. They were in a hostel, sharing a room with someone they didn't know.

He rolled over, opening his eyes blearily, and saw Junhong slowly creeping up on the other bed in their room, the young man in it still sleeping. He pushed himself up quickly, panic setting in. “Junhong! What are you doing?” He hissed.

The younger froze and turned slowly, expression dark and eyes hungry. “Nothing,” came the sickly sweet reply.

“If you're hungry I'll find you something to eat, so just... Just step away from that guy and we can move on.”

Junhong stared at him silently, eyes wide and teeth bared. Then he turned, whole body twisting, and advanced on Jongup. Before the shorter boy could do anything he'd crawled onto the bed, one hand on each shoulder and pinning the smaller boy down, his knees either side of his legs. Leaning down, he brushed his mouth over Jongup's neck, pulse beating against his lips.

“Please don't,” Jongup whimpered, eyes clenched shut and body trembling. He tensed as the lips on his skin moved, peeling back from sharp teeth. Instead of the sharp pain of a bite, he felt tickling breath as the younger let out a cool laugh against his neck.

“I'm not going to hurt you,” came the soft voice.

Jongup let out a gasp of relief, feeling the sweat on his back stick to the sheets.

Junhong pulled away and grinned at him, before getting off the bed. “I'm hungry.”

“Is-is there any of the meat left?”Jongup breathed out, sitting up slowly. His stomach turned, with hunger or nausea he wasn't sure.

“No. I ate it already.” Junhong stared at him.

“Um. Okay. Uh, let me just get cleaned and dressed and we'll head out, okay? We'll find somewhere.” He pulled himself out of the bed and, under Junhong's watchful eye, made his way to the hostel shower.

The water dribbled down onto him, barely washing away the dry sweat and dirt. He shuddered as the cold water seeped into his skin and mourned the broken temperature dial. He could feel the knots in his muscles tensing, getting worse.

His eyes started to sting and his throat burn. He swallowed a few times, but his chest clenched and heaved. A small sob broke from his mouth. Warm water rolled down his face, though remained cold everywhere else. He crushed his eyes shut and breathed heavily.

The door opened.

“S-sorry, I'm using the shower right now,” he called to the shadowy figure on the other side of the shower curtain, cringing at hos weak his voice sounded. The door closed and he breathed heavily, heart hammering in his chest. Then the shower curtain was pulled back. “Hey!”

“Don't worry, it's just me,” Junhong said playfully, stepping into the shower beside him, completely nude.

“Um-” Jongup began.

“I thought I'd come help you wash, otherwise you'll take all day in here,” the younger said, gently rubbing the travel soap into Jongup's back.

It wasn't totally unusual for this to happen. If they were in a rush, it wasn't uncommon for two of the members to jump in the shower at the same time, and they'd been to public bath houses together. It wasn't something they'd actively chose to do, but it happened. This time though Jongup felt incredibly uncomfortable as the younger helped him wash. Junhong's hands were cold and he could feel his eyes staring at him.

“I- I think this is fine. We should get going.” Jongup shrugged off Junhong's touch, knowing full well he was barely washed. He stepped out of the shower quickly and grabbed the towel, drying himself before pulling his clothes on. “I'll re-pack while you're getting dressed,” he said quickly, before half running to the room.

Junhong reappeared in no time, catching Jongup by surprise as he latched their bag of spare clothes shut. “Let's get breakfast,” he half threatened, one hand gripping Jongup's shoulder.

Jongup swallowed hard, hoping they would find enough meat at the local store to satiate the monster's hunger.

 


	8. Chapter 8

There had been one measly packet of kidneys with blood on them at the local store, and it was Sunday, so the butchers was closed. Junhong had devoured the meat in minutes, been in good enough spirits for a short while as they put everything back into the car and headed off again, before he was back to being hungry and irritable.

“There's a services soon,” Jongup said as they passed a large sign, “we can fill up the tank and find you something.”

“Let me out now and I'll find food myself,” Junhong replied tersley.

“Uh... I don't think that's so much of a good idea. We'll be at the services in a minute.”

Junhong growled, deep and hissing. “And if you don't find anything?”

“I will. Trust me, you'll definitely get food.” Jongup turned the car down the side-road towards the services.

As they parked, Junhong went to unplug his belt.

“Um. No... Maybe you should stay in the car,” Jongup suggested awkwardly.

“But I'm hungry,” the younger hissed.

“I know! I know, I'll- I'll only be a minute, I promise.”

There was only the tiny click of the belt unbuckling to warn Jongup, before Junhong had thrown himself across the seats and dug his fingers into the collar of Jongup's shirt, tugging it down to bare his neck and collarbones. He barely had time to think, and raised his foot to plant it on the monster's chest, then kicked him away hard with all the strength years of dancing had given him. Junhong slammed against the far door and Jongup scrambled to get out of the car, slamming it shut and turning away from the red eyes that glared at him.

Inside the services he couldn't find much. In fact, aside from air-tight packaged travel snacks with meat in them, there was nothing. He eyed a particularly meaty pre-packed lunch packet, wondering if it actually needed to be dripping with blood to suffice. He picked it up and paid for it, along with a packet of crisps for himself and for the fuel he needed.

His attention wandered to the stack of newspapers at his side. A massive photo of B.A.P sat on the cover, detailing that two members had been found murdered in their dorms and another two were out missing. There were photographs of Himchan and Yongguk captioned 'DEAD', and photos of himself and Junhong captioned 'MISSING'. He looked away quickly and scurried out of the building before the cashier could pay much attention to his face.

The car was empty. Jongup's stomach turned. He hadn't remembered to lock it.

He took a few nervous steps around the building, and saw the back door hanging open. He glanced in the store room and saw nothing, then turned his head the other way. There was a large hole in the bush as through something large had been dragged, struggling, through it. He took a deep breath and slowly followed the trail of destruction.

He walked past a lost shoe, splattered in blood. From that point onward the trail became progressively stickier, the smell of blood in the air. It declined down a bank slowly, before his eyes finally settled on the scene in front of him.

The body of a young worker was twisted awkwardly on the floor, neck ripped open and skin slightly shrivelled and pale. A large dark pool was slowly drying beneath it.

Junhong was braced against a tree, blood coating his hands like tight gloves. One hand was pressed against his face, tongue lapping at the sticky mess with his eyes shut. Small moans and gasps escaped his mouth, muffled by the fingers curled between his lips. His other hand had slid down his body, leaving a streaky red trail, and had dipped into the front of his jeans. He jerked himself slowly, languidly, like it was a side-action to the pleasure the blood alone gave him.

The sight sent a stab of ice through Jongup's stomach. He stepped back, as quietly as he could, unable to take his eyes off the sight of the maknae. Something under his foot crunched and he froze. Junhong opened his eyes, dark and cruel, and gazed at him like a hungry wolf. His heart stopped. He turned on point and fled.

He staggered up the bank and and tripped over the loose shoe, hitting the ground hard. The skin on his palms scraped off and he threw up onto his hands. He stayed there a moment, shivering and squeamish, before picking himself up and staggering off again.

For whatever reason his feet led him straight to the car. He shut himself in the drivers side and turned on the radio. It blared some popular track with a beat nearly as hard and fast as his heart at that moment. He closed his eyes and tried to erase his memory of what he'd just seen. He let the music deafen him, the ridiculous party track preventing him from even hearing himself think. When he opened his eyes again, Junhong was in the car beside him.

“I wasn't going to hurt you,” the tall boy whispered, turning the music volume down a little to nuzzle Jongup's neck. “They were trying to call the police... I couldn't let them...”

“Y-you have to control yourself,” Jongup stammered, voice weak.

“I'm trying... But it's so hard,” his fingers curled into the material of Jongup's shirt, like a child seeking comfort, “I want to be good for you.”

Jongup's hair stood on end, skin itching like ants were climbing up him. “Y-you have to stop killing people.”

“If the police get us they'll lock both of us away. Forever. I'm just trying to protect you.”

Jongup pictured what prison life would be like, and imagined that he wouldn't survive long. It was true, he was an accomplice to a murderer. He'd be punished just as harshly.

“Just... Be more careful,” he said, hands shaking.

“Find me better food,” Junhong mumbled, nuzzling him again.

“Right.” Jongup took a deep breath, staring at his reflection in the window screen.

 


	9. Chapter 9

Junhong spent the day in the back seats of the car, a jacket thrown over him to keep him out of the sun. Jongup kept his eyes on the road, hand occasionally dipping into a packet of crisps sat on the passenger seat. Recent hits blared on the radio, drowning out any coherent thought.

The radio DJ was talking. Something about a recent tragedy. Something about a terrible loss. Something about something being in memory of something. Then a familiar guitar riff started to play. Painfully familiar notes that dug straight into his skin and burned his core.

He swerved the car over, nearly hitting someone else on the road and receiving angry horns, and nearly crashed into the fence alongside the road as he parked messily in the hard shoulder. He threw the car door open and fell to the ground, grit scraping into his skin and stones burying into his palms. His chest heaved, lungs tightening as Daehyun's soft voice sang over the radio, followed by Yongguk's deep tones. Panic tore at his insides, nails clawing at the floor and sweat beading on his forehead.

The lights around him went out. Cold hands held his face, forced him to look up. Junhong's face was close, foreheads brushing together and hair tangling.

“It's okay,” the younger boy whispered, “I've got you. It's okay.”

“No it's not.” Jongup's voice cracked.

“You're fine,” Junhong assured, stroking his cheeks, “I've got you. It's going to be all right.”

Jongup found himself unable to answer. His breath ripped through him in wheezes as his eyes burned, hot tears crawling down his face. His throat burned, acrid and bitter.

“It's going to be okay,” Junhong kept mumbling, nuzzling him gently.

Jongup slowly calmed down and looked up at the younger boy. Junhong smiled assuringly and pressed soft, comforting kisses to his face, brushing away the tears. Jongup closed his eyes and hiccuped, letting himself be loved by the gentle lips and slow caress of cool fingers. He was safe, held in familiar hands and cut off from the world beneath a jacket, like he was a child again. He opened his eyes and saw Junhong's gentle smile.

“You're okay,” Junhong said softly.

“Yeah.” Jongup nodded, weak in those cool hands.

They got back in the car, Junhong still hidden under the jacket, but now in the passenger seat, and Jongup back in the drivers seat. This time, their fingers intertwined on the gear stick, solidified.

 

Jongup stood just inside the doors of a motel, eyeing the prices of overnight stay. Junhong remained in the car, uncertain of how low the sun needed to be before he felt comfortable to walk around. The woman at the desk glanced at him with the stiff smile of someone who'd been given a difficult shift as she sorted out paperwork. She'd disappeared into the room behind the desk for a few minutes as he'd stepped inside, but was now rustling things around her desk like she was expecting something to happen. He paid it little attention.

“Can I help you?” She asked in the forced-sweet tone.

“Uh. I think so. I'm going to grab my friend and we'll pay for a night.”

“You can pay for a night and then get your friend after,” she said, calmly but with some weight.

He frowned a little. “Uh. No. I should talk about it to him first,” he said firmly, and turned away before she could say anything more.

As soon as he stepped out of the building, he was dragged off to the side of the motel where it was dark, a hand over his mouth. He muffled a yelp against the cold hand on his face, but quickly calmed when Junhong's quiet voice whispered to him.

“The police are here. They were tipped off about us. I need you to distract them while I get to the car. When I sound the horn, shield your eyes.”

Jongup could only nod before he was pushed out of the shadows and into the car park. He took a few awkward steps towards the crowd of officers who were talking among themselves. “Um,” he began.

“Jongup?” Came a familiar voice, before, “Jongup!”

He barely had time to register what was happening when Daehyun's face appeared between two of the officers, the singer pushing himself through them. Jongup could only stare in mute shock.

“I didn't think I'd see you again, are you okay?” Daehyun asked, voice shaking and eyes brimming. “Do- Do you know what- what happened to...” He took a deep breath and stepped closer, “Youngjae's with another group looking for you and Junhong. Do you know where he is?” He paused, but didn't wait long enough to register Jongup's stunned silence. “I'm so glad to see you, I-”

A car behind the group beeped loudly, making them jump and turn to the vehicle. Jongup caught a glimpse of Junhong behind the wheel before throwing his hand up over his eyes. The car floodlights burst into light, causing the officers and Daehyun to shout in surprise and cover their eyes, temporarily blinded. Jongup ran towards the car, grabbing the door and throwing himself into the passenger seat. Junhong stamped the car into live and dragged it out of the car park back onto the road.

“Daehyun!” Jongup gasped, “We have to get Daehyun!”

“We can't-”

“We have to go back for him! He knows we're out here, Youngjae is looking for us, they don't want us hurt they-”

“We can't!” Junhong snapped, looking at him with a scowl and wet eyes, “You promised to keep me safe, right? I'm keeping you safe in return. We have to stick together, and that means no one else. They can't know. It's better this way!”

Jongup deflated, sinking down in the passenger seat. Junhong was right. This was the best way.

They drove on in silence.

 


	10. Chapter 10

The police didn't hesitate to catch up. Jongup sweated against the passenger seat, watching the demon at the wheel press the accelerator flat to the ground and steer them at top speed down the road. Blue lights flashed behind them, approaching fast. Their car just wasn't fast enough.

“We have to ditch the car,” Junhong said.

“We can't! We don't have any other way of getting around!”

“We'll get back to it, but if we don't run on foot they'll definitely catch up.” As he said this, one car pulled close in his wing mirror and he hissed between his fangs. “Hold on.”

The car jerked harshly to the side, crashing into the barrier between the road and the woods around them, breaking the fence. The car rumbled off down a slight bank, shredding through bushes until it rolled to a stop between two large trees. Junhong reached over Jongup, threw the door open and pushed the smaller boy out of the door and followed after him.

They staggered through the undergrowth, and after however long of running Jongup turned and discovered that he was alone. The woods around him were alive with muffled voices in the distant calling out, shrubbery being stepped on and branches being pushed aside. He stared around, knowing that if he moved too much he'd give himself away. He turned, heart hammering in his throat, and saw a slight hovel between the roots of the tree.

It took some manoeuvring, but he tucked himself carefully between the roots, curling up small. Though he was a few inches shorter than most people he knew, he certainly wasn't slighter, and he was finding it a hard time to squeeze himself into the tiny gap. He froze halfway through struggling, however, when the sound of crunching footsteps approached. Someone slim and tall stepped around the tree

“Junhong,” he breathed out with relief, before seizing up when he realised he'd made a mistake. The police officer turned their gaze down to him and he gulped hard.

“Hey! He's over here!” The officer called, then reached down to him, “Come with me, buddy, we'll sort this out.”

“Just grab him!” Another, larger officer shouted, approaching from the other side.

Jongup shrunk back, heart hammering, like a trapped mouse.

“Come on kid, before I-” The larger officer began, before being grabbed by something that looked like huge pale claws and dragged off into the darkness of the forest, kicking and screaming.

Jongup and the tall officer stared at the now silent empty space, mouths open.

“This is you isn't it?” The tall officer stepped back, “you and the other guy. You killed your own friends and now you're killing other people.”

Jongup opened his mouth to protest, but a gun barrel was shoved in front of his face.

“Don't you say a fucking word or I'll blast you to-”

The claws reappeared once again, ripping the officer's throat open and gouging deep. Jongup stared in horror as the head rolled back, splintered bone breaking free and flesh tearing, and hit the ground. The decapitated body followed after with a dull thud, gun bouncing uselessly against the floor.

“Are you okay?” Junhong stepped out of the darkness, soaked in filth and hands dripping. “Did they hurt you?”

“N-no.. I-” Jongup took a deep breath. “You saved me.”

“Of course I saved you, Jonguppie. I'd never let anyone hurt you.” Junhong crouched down and held Jongup's face in his hands, red mess sticking to the smaller boy's skin.

“We need to get away,” Jongup half sobbed, “they're everywhere.”

“I'll deal with it,” Junhong smiled and gently tapped Jongup's nose, leaving a smear, before straightening up. “Stay here, hyung.”

Jongup waited, still and unmoving, as around him the muffled screams of officers broke the quiet then died as suddenly as they happened. The tree bark pressed into his body, leaving marks on his skin, and the dirt and the blood on his face cooled. The stench of death surrounded him and he breathed slowly.

“That's everyone.” Junhong's soft voice came from Jongup's left and the maknae reappeared, scruffy and covered in scratches. “We can go back to the car now.”

“Junhong... This isn't right, surely this can't be the only way?” Jongup's eyes darted to the decapitated corpse.

“Uppie,” the maknae crouched and took hold of Jongup's hands, “I'm keeping you safe. They were going to shoot you. I don't want anyone to ever do that to you again.”

Jongup couldn't contain the small sob that escaped him. “I'm scared,” he whimpered, trembling.

The younger squeezed his hands and leaned in, pressing a kiss to his forehead then on each cheek. “Do you promise you'll keep me safe?”

Jongup nodded, eyes burning.

“Good, because I promise I'll keep you safe. Forever. You're my precious Jonguppie-hyung, and I'm keeping you by my side until the end.”

Jongup let out another few sobs, and Junhong leaned in to kiss his lips. It was chase, but there was somehow nothing more to it than just the touching of lips. But it was enough, and Jongup slowly settled down.

They stood together slowly, hand in hand, and made their way to the car. With a lot of difficult pushing, they managed to get the vehicle back onto the road. Jongup stared down at the bruises on his hands and swallowed.

“I'm going to have a quick snack before we get back on the road, can't have me getting hungry on the journey, right?” Junhong joked.

Jongup's skin chilled.

The maknae disappeared back into the forest and Jongup leaned against the battered car, breathing slowly. He opened his eyes at the sound of something moving, expecting to see Junhong returning quicker than he'd expected, and instead saw something that made his heart stop.

Alone. Ruffled. Bewildered. Terrified.

Daehyun.

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

“Jongup?” Daehyun's voice cracked, shaking and weak like the boy himself. His hair was ruffled and clothes ripped and smeared with filth. Fresh cuts on his cheeks and arms bled, mingling in with red stains from God knows who else's veins. His eyes were wide, chest heaving and barely able to stand still with how much his legs trembled.

Jongup stared, mute with shock.

“Jongup, they... They said you were a suspect and- and I didn't want to believe them! You couldn't be! You're our brother! There's no way it could be you! We went looking for you because we wanted you to be safe! But now... Now all this... Please...” Daehyun's voice trembled, weak and broken by the grief that was spilling out of him in waves. “Please tell me you didn't do this.”

Jongup swayed, dizzy with nausea that oozed through him. He watched as Daehyun's gaze became more pleading, eyes swimming with tears that began to cascade down his cheeks and leave clear stripes through the filth. A mass of emotions battled inside him, crashing against each other.

“Jongup?” Daehyun's voice was so small now.

“I- I didn't.” He managed to force out, voice dry and thin with effort.

Relief hit the older boy so visibly that Jongup could barely watch. Fresh tears washed down his face and a smile broke into a smile – the first genuine smile Jongup had seen since this whole ordeal began. “Where's Junhong?” Daehyun asked, voice breathy with light laughs.

Jongup wished he didn't have an answer. He wished he didn't see those red eyes glowing between the trees. He wished the tall shadow behind the older vocalist wasn't approaching, claws raising out from the darkness. “I'm sorry,” was all he managed to say, before the beast attacked.

Daehyun's screams split the quiet like a butcher's knife, ringing in Jongup's ears and haunting him ceaselessly from then on. They were silenced as suddenly as they began, leaving Jongup staring at the empty space he'd once been standing. Only the disrupted foliage gave any hint to the way he'd kicked, struggled and lashed out desperately against the grip that dragged him backwards to his death.

Jongup's knees gave way beneath him and he slumped to the ground. His knuckles bashed against the grit on the road, scuffing the skin. He sat there for some time, body jerking as he tried to breathe properly without retching. A light breeze passed him and the skin on his arms stood on end. It was suddenly a lot darker than he remembered it being.

Phone in hand, screen turned away from him so it would light his way, he stumbled back into the forest. The gentle blue glow barely told him what he was seeing, but it was enough not to crash into a tree. Something told him that using the harsh built-in torch would be much worse. The forest was silent, aside from the muffled hooting of owls and the scuffle of a nocturnal animal. He listened, each step as quiet as he could manage.

Something like a gentle moan wafted through the darkness. He turned his phone, breath held, and bit his tongue hard to prevent himself shouting out in horror.

Junhong was straddling Daehyun's hips, body curled over and supported by one hand holding onto the singer's head. At first, in the darkness, he thought Junhong's other hand was under Daehyun's t-shirt, but with a jolt of disgust he realised that it was actually beneath his skin, stirring around in the dark glistening mess that had once been his stomach. The hand slowly lifted from the heap of gore, strings of thick blood connecting them, before the youngest leaned in and buried his mouth into his palm, letting out a body-quaking moan and smearing the dark mess down his jaw and throat as he tipped his head back.

The hand on Daehyun's head caressed the soft cheeks, thumb rubbing over those thick lips as his other hand reached down to take hold of the dead boy's wrist. He pressed his mouth to the soft underside, lips parted like he was kissing it, and groaned against the cooling flesh. His hips rolled down against the corpse, causing the ripped, bloody flesh to make sickening wet noises. He ripped his fangs from the skin and nuzzled Daehyun's palm, gasps and small moans escaping him as he lost himself in the vile pleasure he gave himself.

Jongup bolted.

He didn't remember how he got back to the car or if he was noisy or silent or even if the monster had seen him. All he knew was he'd tucked himself in the gap between the front and back seats, and curled up and hidden his head beneath his hands with his face pressed against his knees and scrunched his eyes shut and counted backwards from one thousand in his shaking voice and tears burning his face and bile searing his throat and-

He allowed the raw cry that ripped from his throat when he felt warm, sticky hands take hold of his own. Kept his eyes shut when his face was lifted and a cloth dabbed at his cheeks. Refused to calm down when he was carefully lifted from the gap and placed on the back seat, wrapped in a blanket and buckled in. Never once settled when Junhong started the car up and took them back on their journey.

He didn't stop crying until sheer exhaustion knocked him out.

 


	12. Chapter 12

“Your hands are in really bad shape.”

Jongup only nodded, not looking at the younger.

“You should've said earlier, it could've been infected,” Junhong continued, carefully wiping the scuffed skin on Jongup's knuckles free of grit, dirt and dried blood.

He continued not to reply. His gaze was fixed on the tiny TV in their motel bedroom where the sound was off but the subtitles on.

Youngjae was on the screen, eyes puffy and huge exhaustion lines making him look like he'd aged years. His hair was a mess and he clearly hadn't been sleeping. Daehyun's body had been found, along with the bodies of all the police officers. And Junhong's DNA. The police had also reported that Jongup was spotted alive moments before the massacre. Youngjae was saying all of this, confusion and distress prominent the peak of his brows to the stiff gestures of his hands as he spoke. He'd continue searching, he said, but from now on the police would be heavily armed and he'd be under severe protection.

“Let's put something else on.” Junhong picked up the TV remote and pushed a button, jumping it over to a mindless comedy that Jongup once cared about. “That's better.”

The daytime sun had been clocked from the room by the flimsy curtains and one of their towels hung over the curtain rail for extra protection. The room was pitch black savefor the light of the tv screen. There was a cooling bowl of instant ramen that Jongup had only eaten half of on the bedside table and a can of flat cola. Something grumbled and hummed that may have been the grubby aircon unit or maybe the building itself in it's dilapidated mess.

“Get some sleep, Jonguppie-hyung.”

He nodded in mute response. He knew the only reason that no one had called the police on them this time was because the bags under his eyes and the stress-lines around his face made him near unrecognisable, and maybe that was useful, but damn if he wasn't exhausted.

Junhong turned the TV off and they were plunged into darkness. Lights swam in front of Jongup's vision. The square screen just visible where it was still powering down and a faint slip of light from above the curtains were the only things indicating that he hadn't closed his eyes. He could just about make out Junhong's silhouette sat in front of him on the bed.

A hand pressed to his chest and he allowed himself to be pushed down onto the mattress. His head hit the pillow, limp and heavy. Arms snaked around his middle and legs tangled in his own. Junhong's cold face nuzzled his neck and for a moment he almost wished the monster would rip his throat out and be done with it, but instead there was only stillness.

Weak and compliant, he was dragged backwards into unconsciousness.

 

He had to admit: he had no idea where they were. Deep in the countryside, nothing for miles, the sun was on the verge of setting and there was nowhere to go. The car was pulled over on the side of the road while they stood around and tried to work out what to do next. Junhong had a map in his hands and Jongup was staring the way they'd come wondering if it was a bad idea to turn back. Though, at this point, he was wondering if it even mattered any more.

His gaze wandered over the fields, dropping down to the grass just on the side of the road. There was a rather solid looking branch not too far from him as though it had been ripped off a tree and blown across the ground, or maybe fallen off the back of a vehicle that was transporting it for whatever reason.

“I think there's a petrol station about an hour up the road. If we get there we can fill up and work out where the next town is.”

Jongup hummed in response. There were a number of smaller pieces of branch lying about. One was about the length of his forearm and about two fingers thick.

“Then we can get some food.”

Food. Jongup stumbled off the side of the road under the pretence of trying to see more clearly what was ahead of them. He purposefully stepped on his lace and staggered when it came undone. He tisked at his own 'clumsiness' and knelt down to re-tie it. For reasons he couldn't explain, he also slid the branch up the inside of his sweater sleeve. The sharp edges of the splintered wood scraped his arm and he found something comforting in it's weapon-like sharpness.

They got back in the car and headed onwards.

 


	13. 13.1- Penultimate Chapter

The petrol station had a small grimy food station attached to it where Jongup and Junhong had positioned themselves at a mucky plastic table with bent chairs, picking at their cheap food. Jongup ate slowly, wondering if this would be one of the last meals he'd eat. Junhong ripped his apart, dissecting it for each scrap of meat. It was dark and the guy at the desk was old and tired looking, and irritated that he had customers so late at night.

Jongup turned his crappy disposable chopsticks over in his hand and let his gaze wander around the room. There was a stand with various disposable utensils beside the door to the single toilet cubicle. He chewed slowly, processing the information. “I'm going to the bathroom,” he eventually said quietly, and stood.

Junhong watched him, gaze fixed and steady.

“I'll be back,” Jongup assured and headed to the bathroom. As he passed by the utensils, he pulled his jacket off in an awkward motion and snagged a plastic knife, before entering the cubicle.

It was tiny, awkward, and filthy, but he didn't care. He sat on the edge of the seat, turning the plastic knife over in his hands. The blade was sharp, and could cut pretty nicely he imagined, but bent easily and was flimsy.

It would have to do.

He exited the bathroom after what he felt was a reasonable time, the knife tucked in his pocket. He pulled his jacket back on and returned to Junhong, who eyed him suspiciously.

“Everything okay?” The maknae asked.

“Yeah. I just had to piss.” Jongup shrugged and ran a hand through his hair.

“Didn't you wash your hands?”

Jongup tensed a little. His hands were very dry. “Sink wasn't working.”

“Hm. You should tell the owner.” Junhong chewed on a vegetable and pulled a face before scraping it off his tongue.

“They know. There was a sign. Let's just keep going and find somewhere to stay. Maybe I can wash there.”

Junhong nodded quietly. “I can't have you catching something and getting ill...”

They headed back to the car in silence.

 

They pulled over in a hard shoulder so Junhong could try to work out the map with the inside car light. Jongup sat outside around the back of the car, breathing the cool night air. There was nothing around them for a long time.

He twisted his arm carefully and shook it. The branch slid from his sleeve into his hand. He twisted his lips a little and pulled the plastic knife from his pocket. With both in his hands, he began to work.

At first only tiny chips of wood came off, and the serrated blade became clogged with muck. With a few hasty wipes against the side of his shoe, most of the dirt was gone and the wood began to scrape more smoothly beneath the plastic edge. The sharp end of the branch began to shape up slowly, becoming more spear-like.

“I know where we are!” Junhong's voice called out, making Jongup flinch.

The plastic knife snapped under his hand, flimsy blade bouncing away. He stared at it.

“Get in the car, hyung! There's a town ahead!”

He sighed heavily and tucked the branch back up his sleeve, ignoring the way the sharpened edges cut into his skin, and climbed back into the vehicle.

They drove on.

 

The B&B they stayed at was sweet. Very old fashioned and cosy, smelling a little bit of dust but mostly of flowery fabric softener. They'd been given separate rooms, much to Junhong's irritation, but the woman at the desk had insisted that they couldn't share a double bed and there were no twin rooms left. She had also warned that there was CCTV in the building and she would know if they were sneaking off into each other's rooms.

Jongup felt momentary peace as they made their way to their rooms, until Junhong grumbled something about teaching her a lesson.

“We can just ditch this place and go somewhere else,” the younger was saying, scowling.

“Here's fine... Just roll with it one time, please? I just need to sleep and eat and then we can go...” He unlocked the door of his room and stepped in, then turned before Junhong could follow him. “I'm serious. If you need me you can knock.” Before there could be any response, he shut the door and flopped down on his bed.

Before exhaustion could drag him to sleep, he shook the branch from his sleeve and stared at it. It needed more work. His gaze drifted around the room, looking for anything he could use. Eventually he noticed the little room-service menu and had an idea. He reached for the bedroom phone, pulling it from the receiver and balanced it between his shoulder and ear as he typed out the number.

“Hi, this is room five. I was wondering if I could order two steaks. Yeah, one to this room and one to room four. They come with steak knives right?” He paused, listening. “Okay, great. Thanks. Um, room five's well-done and room four rare. Thanks.”

When the food arrived, he ate quickly, lavishing in the energy a decent meal gave him. It had been a long time since he ate anything with a home-made feel to it and it was a temporary, fleeting comfort. Just as he was savouring the flavour, he heard soemthing in the next room over thud loudly. He held still, mouthful of food, but when nothing came of it he shrugged it off and kept eating.

Then, steak knife in hand, he got to work.

The branch was shaping up nicely at this point. The end was pointed, sharp and sturdy. The wood had smoothed down, nothing to catch or cause any resistance. He's really done himself proud on this weapon. He tried not to think too much about the fact he'd made a weapon. Tried not to think too much about what he was going to do with it.

There was a knock at the door and he jolted, shoving the wooden stake up his sleeve and heading to the door, forgetting that the knife was still in his hand.

“You know,” Junhong's voice said slyly as the door was opened, a crimson grin plastered across his face and front smeared with blood, “for all the screaming ladies do in films, they don't scream as much in real life.”

Jongup stared, blood running cold. “Please tell me you didn't.”

“She was really rude, and let's be honest, hyung, that steak wasn't going to fill me in the slightest. It was a nice appetiser though.” Junhong pulled a bit of something from between his fangs.

“You're a monster,” Jongup breathed out.

The taller boy's eyes narrowed sharply. “What did you call me?”

“You're a monster.” Jongup took a step back, knife raised. “You're out of control. You don't care about anything any more. You're not Junhong, you're not my maknae, you're not my friend. You're a monster!”

“What's this,you think you're going to hurt me?” Junhong advanced on the smaller, looming over him with teeth bared. His claws sunk into Jongup's shoulders.

Without thinking, Jongup thrust the knife forwards and jammed it in Junhong's ribs. The monster jerked and looked down at the blade that stuck out of his chest, far too low to be near his heart and barely deep enough to do much damage. Their gazes met once more and Jongup swallowed.

Junhong's hand slid up to grasp Jongup's jaw, tipping the boy's head back. “Pathetic,” he whispered in his ear, then dragged his lips over the bared column of flesh. With one swift movement, he sunk his teeth into his neck.

Jongup spasmed and flinched, body burning and searing with pain. He pressed his hands on Junhong's upper body and shoved as hard as he could, throwing him off and freeing himself. He hit the far wall and slid down, gaze growing hazy as the creature watched. His head tipped back, blood gushing down his neck and front, and the world went dark.

 


	14. 13.2 - End

Jongup's head thudded against something and he opened his eyes blearily. It was dark outside but now and then a light shot past the window by his head and seared his eyes. He closed them for a moment, dazed and confused, then it all came back to him. A hand jerked up to his neck and he felt crusted blood flake away under his touch, and the faintest pinpricks of soreness where the teeth had been... However long ago.

He shifted and let out a groan of pain, his neck clicking with how stiff it had become. His insides burned and twisted and he could feel how dry his mouth was. He was starving.

“Hyung, you're awake.” Junhong's voice called back through the darkness of the car, reminding Jongup that he wasn't alone.

“Where are we...” Jongup shoved himself up and pawed at the door. “How long was I out?”

“All day. I thought you were dead so I left you for a while but the police turned up and when I came to get the bags you were moving, so I grabbed you. I hid us out in a little abandoned barn for a while and you were out the whole time. You looked really ill. Your body must've put up a real fight.”

Jongup looked up to see Junhong staring at him through the rear mirror.

“Welcome to the club.”

Jongup felt bile burn his throat. He pawed at the door handle with one hand, the other unclipping the seatbelt around his torso. “Get me out,” he mumbled, pawing at the door.

“Hyung, we're on the road right now-”

Jongup managed to get the door handle to click and the door to swing open.

“What the fu-” The younger shot a look of horror back before swerving the car off the road and slamming the breaks.

The car door swung open from the force of the moving vehicle and Jongup let himself fall out. He hit the gravel and bumped, rolled a few feet and came to a stop. Buns and scrapes seared at his body, and within seconds he could feel the itching discomfort of them healing.

“Hyung what the fuck do you think you're doing?”

He didn't bother to look up as the younger leapt from the car and ran over, staring down at him in anger. “I'm done,” Jongup answered quietly, “I'm done with this.”

“Hyung, the police are still after us. We're going to be caught and arrested.”

The older stared silently up at the sky. The moon was full and stars twinkled like distant candles.

“Get up, come on!” Junhong reached down and grabbed Jongup's arm, yanking him up.

He straightened himself up and, carried by the momentum of being pulled, let his free arm swing around and crash into Junhong's jaw.

The younger staggered back, surprised, and raised a hand to touch the bruise. “The fuck?”

“It's over. We're done. This is where it ends.” Jongup advanced, rolling his shoulders and raises his fists for another attack.

“But we're better like th-” His words were cut off by Jongup landing a punch square to his nose, knocking him down to the ground, “Ow, fuck!”

Jongup straddled Jungong's stomach, knees pinning his arms to the ground. “We're not running any more. I'm sick of this. You have to be stopped.”

“You can't hurt me, hyung,” Junhong gasped, staring up at him with wide, pleading eyes, “I'm your maknae. Your friend. You promised me you'd keep me safe.”

“Yeah. I made that promise. I made it to my maknae and my friend. To Junhong.” He let the stake slide out of his sleeve. “But Junhong's gone. He died the moment he was bitten.”

Before the creature could say anything more, Jongup raised the wooden stake and slammed it down hard into it's chest. It shrieked and writhed, thick black blood seeping out the wound and splatting onto Jongup's hand. He yanked the weapon out before slamming it back in over and over, cracking ribs and crunching the fragments beneath each hard stab. The body was long stilled, head tilted back and mouth open, blood soaking everything, corpse jerking with the ruthless attacks.

When it was over he dropped the weapon. He was smeared in black, shaking and feeling sick. He slowly doubled over and cupped the face of his once friend in his hands, resting their foreheads together. One, dry sob. Two. Three. His tense shoulders slowly relaxed. No tears would come. Slowly, lethargically, he crawled off Junhong's body.

He sat for some time debating what to do. The stake was still lying only a few feet from him,but he was no samurai. He couldn't just ram a sharp weapon into his own chest and expect it to work first time. In the distance he could see the sun rising and felt his eyes burn at the light, skin crawling.

Inspiration hit him.

He pulled himself up and rummaged through what belongings they had left in the car, then checked the boot. He was pleasantly surprised to find wheel snow chains and pulled them out, gave them a few test tugs and nodded, satisfied.

The front of the car had some sturdy slats on it that he was able to slide the chains through before wrapping them around himself. He paused before fastening them and leaned over, grabbed the maknae's body, and pulled it over until the head was resting on his lap. He fastened the chains tight and, for a little bit of extra security, tied the laces of his shoes around his ankles so he wouldn't be able to kick too much and try to break away.

He waited, silently, stroking the dead boy's hair as he watched the sky start to pale, a distant orange strip on the horizon.

He wondered where Youngjae was, if he was safe, what he would do when he learned that his whole band was dead. He hoped he'd continue his singing career, he really did deserve a solo album.

The distant searing orb of light burned his retinas and made his skin flare up like a harsh sunburn.

He hoped the remaining member of B.A.P would find peace one day and be supported by the fans. Maybe live a comfortable life and meet a nice person and settle down with a family and a few pets.

The sun burst into light over the landscape.

He wondered if he'd see the others on the other side.

 


End file.
